


Flesh and Blood

by blodwite, Munflour



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Death, I wrote the beginning with someone else, Multi, Sex, Violence, lots of sex really, please forgive the inconsistent style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blodwite/pseuds/blodwite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munflour/pseuds/Munflour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You..." her voice came out hoarse and she swallowed, trying again, "you are not my husband…" she watched in growing horror as two thin, black eyebrows rose in mock surprise and the eyes remained fixed on hers, holding her in an unblinking gaze. "You're right. I'm not." -Jelasithe, a young snow elf with a wounded soul, is rescued by the vampire Varedress. Odd adventures ensure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh and Blood

I distinctly remember telling Savos Aren that my month long guardianship of six magelings was a terrible idea, Varedress thought with a sigh. He roused himself from his mind to check on his ward’s progress. He had them split into pairs and hunting down Ice Wraiths at the moment. Probably not the best method of teaching them but no one had screamed yet, so he assumed all was well.

It appeared that two of the three groups had managed to slay an Ice Wraith each. These were much better results than he had anticipated. Actually, he had been fairly confident that he’d have to save their asses from the little monsters of ice.

A pleased smile flirted with his lips as he picked his way through the snow to the young mages waiting by their kills. They might not be out here in the freezing wind and snow for as long as he thought.

“Very good!” Varedress exclaimed, “That didn’t take nearly as long as I had feared. Now tell me, have you gathered their fangs?” He flicked his eyes between the four of them.  
The Breton girl shook her head, but the rest remained silent.

The elder mage raised a brow, “well, that can’t be helped. Now come here,” he stepped over to the glowing remains of an Ice Wraith, his students following quietly.

“When they die, their bodies end up a puddle on the ground. Since they are made of ice, I’m certain you can figure out why. But sadly that leads one to the chore of sticking their hands into the piles of mush to retrieve the teeth,” a faint look of disgust settled on Varedress’ face as he stuck two fingers into the light blue ice puddle before him. He withdrew his hand and held it out to two of the magelings, dropping one of the frozen fangs into each of their palms.

Wiping his hand on his robe he gestured to the other two mages, “get your fangs from that one. Now, the body itself can be bottled. It has a property which prevents one from freezing, helpful when you’re stuck out in this shit weather without a fire. Remember that, it may save your sorry asses someday.”

Varedress frowned at the four of them as he turned back toward them, “put the teeth in your apothecary satchels so that we don’t have to cut off your frostbitten fingers,” he heaved a sigh, exasperated by their lack of common sense.

Now that he thought about it, two of his wards were missing. Had they been defeated by the wisps of ice that they had been hunting? Hopefully not, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Savos wrath.

“Have you seen Ysma and Khar’ja?” he asked, turning back toward the mages. Varedress cursed and hurried off when they all answered in the negative, though not after ordering the four to follow him. It wouldn’t do to lose them while searching for the others.

They hadn’t gone far when the Khajiit came into view, “Master, this one’s partner has gone!” she cried, her labored breath forming mist in the frozen air.

“Do you know where? Well, not where, but a general location to begin searching?” He asked calmly. He wasn’t truly concerned for the girl’s safety; it was her own fault for getting lost. He merely wanted to go back to the cave and sleep, he wasn’t meant to be awake at this time of day. Now he had to go and hunt down this woman who was too dumb to stay beside her fellow mage.

Khar’ja hesitated, “I know not…” she confessed, flattening her ears against her head.

Varedress opened his mouth to bark back a retort when a piecing scream echoed off the mountains. A confused silence fell over the students in the quake of such a cry as each one realized what such a sound could imply.

With a curse Varedress shoved one of the mages aside and ran toward the location of the scream. He could smell the sweet-blood scent long before the student actually came into view. He stopped a short distance away, taking in the sight of the blood-stained snow and the pale woman lying upon it. Ysma knelt beside the broken woman, tears wetting her cheeks.

He held up a hand to the mages approaching behind him and shook his head. They stayed where they were as he stepped forward.

Varedress unclasped his cloak and placed it over the mostly nude girl, locking his eyes on her throat, eyeing the tell-tale puncture wounds in her flesh. Wounds he was well acquainted with.

Another sigh escaped his lips, “Ysma…do you know anything about this?” he asked quietly, wondering if this woman would live and what she had gone through.  
The poor girl could only manage to shake her head.

Varedress nodded, “that’s alright, honey,” he brushed his fingers against the woman’s wounds, “she’s fighting unconsciousness, far from a good sign. It is cold and we don’t know how long she’s been out here. These wounds…vampires…” he brushed his fingers against her forehead, disconcerted to find her flesh completely devoid of warmth.

“Inform your peers that we are returning to Hob’s Fall Cave, and with a guest,” he told Ysma, and with that he gathered the slim woman into his arms and hurried after his departing students.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke, but her eyes remained closed. Something cool and wet was being touched her forehead and jaw, whipping away the small beads of sweat lingering on her skin. Her skin stuck to the blankets and she frowned, making a low noise in the back of her throat to voice her displeasure. Her mind felt clouded and she was having trouble thinking clearly, a fact that obviously didn’t bode well. It had been years since she had been sick and the heat that coursed through her veins, pounded in her head could have been nothing but a fever.

_Dammit._

There was no time to be sick! Dinner needed to be fixed, wood needed to be chopped for the fire… Valos wouldn’t have time to do these things, he had to go to the markets today… Yet here he was, sitting by her side, selflessly caring for her when he should have been working. She didn’t think she could have ever married a better man. She moved closer to him and kicked one of the blankets covering her off her feet and grunted when her legs stuck together from the sweat coating her body. She buried her face in one of the pillows and Valos started to wash down her neck with the wet cloth, pushing her hair out of her face gently. Just as she started to drift off again, the door creaked open and someone walked soundlessly to stand at the foot of the bed. She froze and fought the urge to open her eyes and look at who ever had entered the room, but decided it best to act as if she were still asleep.

“Is she alive?” a cold hand brushed a lock of hair out of her face and caressed her cheek, the tips of the icy fingers barely making contact with her sweaty skin and sending an odd shiver up her spine.

“This one is fading quickly…” said the voice of a Khajiit barely above a whisper, and a second later the cool cloth returned to her neck.

What the hell? Valos didn’t know any Khajiit… She opened her eyes and tried to sit up, her head spinning and vision blurring. She clutched at the blankets and squeezed her eyes shut, collapsing back onto the bed as a wave of nausea over took her and she leaned over the side of the bed, retching violently. 

The Khajiit moved quickly to help, pulling back her hair and holding it out of the way as she continued to dry heave, coughing and sputtering as her empty stomach tried to purge itself in vain. The same voice from before spoke softly from behind her, the words made gentle and rounded by a very light accent.

“She has about a day before the virus completes its course and we have to shove a stake through her heart,” there was a short pause as the Khajiit wiped down her face again.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” the Khajiit sounded worried and dabbed harder at her face, “do we have the materials to brew a potion?” another long pause followed. Somewhere near the bed a drawer opened and someone rummaged around inside of it, searching for something. The drawer closed a minute later and the gentle voice spoke again.

“Go and get the Nord… what’s her name?” the Khajiit cleared her throat and wrung out the cloth over a pan, the water hitting the metal noisily, “Ysma.”

“Right, go and get her. She’s skilled in alchemy isn’t she?” before the Khajiit had a chance to respond, the voice continued. “She damned well better be, and she better get it right the first time. We only have enough for one potion.”

The Khajiit walked out of the room and the owner of the accented voice sat on the edge of the bed next to her, dipping the cloth in the bowl of ice cold water again and placing it on her forehead.

“You can open your eyes now. She’s gone,” the voice muttered, barely above her range of hearing.

She groaned and opened her eyes slowly, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light before opening them completely. A pale face framed by black hair came into focus and she smiled, reaching up and stroking his cheek. 

“Valos…” a horrible pain in her head blinded her for a second and she nearly screamed, tears forming at the corner of her eyes and falling down her face, “V-Valos… I don’t feel good…” she struggled to keep her eyes open and waited for him to respond, running her thumb lightly over his cheek bone and whimpering as the pain returned. The two of them sat in silence for several minutes until the pain subsided and she could see again. 

Two green eyes stared down at her, ablaze with an unholy fire. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn’t seem to be able to break away from their stare, horror spreading throughout her body when she saw the cold, raw hunger in them. These were not the eyes of Valos. Her hand fell away from his face and onto the bed, trembling.

“You…” her voice came out hoarse and she swallowed, trying again, “you are not my husband…” she watched in growing horror as two thin, black eyebrows rose in mock surprise and the eyes remained fixed on hers, holding her in an unblinking gaze.

“You’re right. I’m not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was supposed to be a story written between me and my best friend. But things have fallen to the wayside and we no longer talk.  
> So I'm posting this as a tribute to a friendship lost, that I will remember, even if she says that I don't care.  
> She only wrote a small portion of it, and I am posting it in the belief that, at the time we wrote it, that it was ours, and belonged to each of us together.


End file.
